


Londinium

by lacygrey



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Ancient Britain, Ancient Rome, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Secret of the Tomb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacygrey/pseuds/lacygrey
Summary: Instead of falling into the Pompeii diorama, Jed and Octavius land in an exhibit on Roman Britain where they get separated. Everyone there has woken for the very first time and no one wants to believe that they and the ongoing conflict between Romans and Britons is not reality. Jed and Octavius find themselves once more on opposing sides.





	1. Welcome to Britannia

 

 

They are falling, reeling in the air, head over heels, again and again, until Jed loses sight of anything but blue and green.

Then, just for an instant, there’s Octavius reaching toward him. Jed doesn’t see his face, just his friend’s desperate movement, arms outstretched.

Jed reaches too, tries to catch his hand, but they are too far apart and, just as quickly, Octavius is gone.

Then it's just back to green and blue, switching faster and faster.

Surely this is the end. He’s moving too quickly for a safe landing. Jed sees a flash of red again before it disappears into the cloud and he can’t make out Octavius any more in the tumbling air. There are only his cries somewhere in the distance below, until Jed himself is engulfed by the chilly mist.

Then he’s buffeted by a wall of leaves and branches, no longer falling, but bouncing painfully. It slows him for the impact; far from gentle, but far gentler than he feared, into something soft and wet.

Mud.

He’s winded, but whole. He’s also covered in mud, sodden and, as he feared, alone. He’s lying in bog-land, but nearby the land rises and there are woods. Hauling himself out from his soggy landing place he struggles uphill toward firmer ground.

At first he sees nothing but trees. Then he spies a rough track leading through them and doesn’t know whether to feel better or worried. Who knows what kind of people live here? Who knows where ‘here’ is? These are oak trees; familiar enough, but unlike the ones he’s known. The undergrowth plants are different from any in his ‘real-world’ memories or the ones back in his diorama.

He catches a movement just out of his line of vision and freezes. There’s something red!

Jedediah runs, steeling himself for what he’ll find. Octavius’ fall must have been broken by the trees, but they’re not without their cruelty, as Jed can feel all over his own body right now.

When he gets there though, his heart falls. It’s only Octy’s cape, hanging off a branch. Its crimson stands out against the dull mossy tones of the forest. He takes it and wraps it around his shoulders, not because he’s cold, but because he’s alone and fears for what might have become of his friend.

He scours the area, searching through the damp undergrowth. It might as well be a real forest - It certainly feels like one, and probably comes complete with its own wolves, wild hogs and bears. Jed spends a long time calling his friend’s name, but there is no response.

No Octavius.

Nobody at all.

He notices for the first time that he only has one of his guns. Who knows where the other fell? Not that it would be of any use. Apart from the fact that they never worked in the first place, the one he still has is soaking wet. He empties it, dries it, cleans it, charges it; _all pointless_ an inner voice reminds him, but the routine actions are familiar and reassuring.

Jedediah scrutinises his surroundings some more and wonders if he and Octy have been missed yet? How long it is till sunrise? How far it is to civilisation? But most of all… _Where is Octavius?_

 

***

 

Octavius lands so softly it’s like he fell onto something made for that very purpose, like a giant pillow. Its surface is of soft leather and gives under his weight, before tossing him gently up. When he lands again he sinks into it.

It’s not flat though, and he slides down, until he reaches a ridge.

Once his head has stopped spinning, he pulls himself into a sitting position and finds that he’s on the roof of a tent; some lucky chance. Before him is a field of sloping grassland leading down to the sea and dotted with tents like the one he landed on.

Jedediah is nowhere to be seen.

Jed’s chances of having such a fortuitous landing are slim, but he won’t let himself think about that now.

Everything about his surroundings is profoundly familiar - The shape of the tents, the saddles of the horses tethered nearby, and a collection of shields and armour lying polished in the sun.

It's obviously a Roman army encampment. He does not know this place but he knows its type; a temporary camp. And for some unknown reason, there’s nobody much about.

Octavius slips down from the tent roof to the ground. It’s as though he’s returned to one of his own campaigns. And, though he does not recognise this chilly, lush land, he has his suspicions. If they are in the British Museum, then this is surely… Britannia.

“Come to the clifftop!” A voice cries from the direction of the shore. “Caesar’s ships are in sight!”

He hurries in that direction, meeting more and more people as he goes. Soldiers salute him, but no one asks who he is.

If this is what he suspects it is, he is about to witness a significant chapter of the past; one from almost before his time, something he as only read about... Julius Caesar’s arrival in Britannia.

Already today is different from Caesar’s account though. Octavius remembered reading how storms raging at sea hampered the landing, while today the sea is perfectly calm. The exhibit makers have been fanciful. But, if there was one thing the museum never bargained for, it was those ships actually arriving here. It’s something he himself can barely imagine. Here he is truly walking through history.

But, for that very reason he will not be able to greet Caesar as a friend.

How could he possibly recognise Octavius when, at the very moment when Julius Caesar first set foot in Britannia, Octavius was only eight years old.

 

 


	2. Meeting the Locals

 

 

Jed pushes on through the wet vegetation. This faint path was surely made by people his size. So, he’s got to be in a diorama of some kind… Though, deep in the woods, everything’s so realistic there’s nothing to give away that this is an exhibit.

The way the tablet has worked its transformation is truly amazing. The moss and plants give off a convincing damp earthy smell and birds flit about in the branches above him. The squelching in his boots and the cold are less welcome, but equally realistic.

You’d hardly believe that the tablet was sick. There’s nothing wrong with what it’s done tonight, at least to his eyes. Although, seeing as they too are part of the tablet’s magic and all, how would he know? Can he trust his own eyes?

These days they find things beautiful that he previously would not have noticed. It’s got to be part of the creepy stuff happening with the tablet, but - though he hates to admit it - sometimes some of that stuff feels real nice.

Take the fiasco at the gala, for example. It had all seemed like good fun at the time, but look at the mess they had made. Then there’s been the thing with Octy, and though it’s something he’s been trying to hold back and deny, it’s not altogether bad either, not bad at all.

Before, he couldn’t stand all that hugging and touching stuff that seemed to come so natural to the Romans. Now he craves it. And much more than he thinks is healthy. Now that _has_ to be the tablet’s fault, don’t it?

Sometimes, Octy would get _real_ close to him and it would set off a whole barrel-load of feelings in Jed that he’d never had before; ones that went way beyond the boundaries of friendship.

Fortunately he could resist it. There was no way he was gonna let it mess things up with Octy when they’d been going so well. Octy was just being his natural friendly self and Jed was getting him all wrong because the tablet’s magic had gone crazy on them.

But it’s not the tablet’s fault if he’s worried about Octy right now. Where is he? Is he wandering like Jed? Is he hurt? All the fruitless calling is wearing Jed down, so, after a while, he stops. He wonders where Larry and the others are right now; if they are any closer to finding the solution for the tablet. Then he gets to asking himself - because this world seems so real, _too_ real almost - whether he is indeed still in a museum, or whether something far stranger - or even mortal - happened when they fell.

 

***

 

It’s not easy to catch Jedediah unawares.

In most of his museum adventures his adversaries have been either much larger, and hence impossible to miss, or much noisier, like the Roman army, who clank as they’re coming. This is how, head full of absent friends and questions, he gets pounced upon by three very heavy people and bundled up against a tree with a handful of nasty-looking spears pointing in his face.

At first sight they seem to be Mayans, although they’ve got warmer clothes on - furs and rough woollen cloth. Then he sees that their skin (what little is exposed) is smeared in some sort of mud, or else is painted or tattooed. Some of them have beards, and though they are lowly dressed they have fine brooches on their cloaks, and their spears (of which he has rather too good a view) are well-crafted.

 

The smallest of the group is a dark headed, sharp-moving little woman who seems to be the leader, and she makes it known with tilts of her head and piercing looks. “What are you doing out alone, Roman?” she asks, without preamble.

On the word ‘Roman’ the spearheads move closer to Jedediah’s face till he’s shrinking back into the tree and crossing his eyes to focus on the nearest. “I ain’t no Roman.” He replies, wrenching his gaze back to her spiteful face.

Someone behind her laughs.

“You have a very fine Roman cape” she says, matter-of-factly and tugs on it mockingly before looking at him sternly again. “Now answer the question.”

He does so, truthfully and factually.

“We got separated from our friends when we were runnin’ from a dinosaur upstairs, err… An’ we fell down here.” Jed gets the feeling from the way the woman said the word ‘Roman’ that asking after Octavius would not be a good idea right now. “We’re searchin’ for Ahkmenrah’s folks to get his magic tablet fixed.”

 

They look at him in confusion. The woman starts to circle the tree he’s pinned to.

_Now he sees her._

_Now he doesn’t._

_Now he sees her..._

Her eyes flit from the empty woods to his face and back again, while her companions keep their weapons trained.

“Who have we here if he’s not Roman?”

“Ah’m not-”

“That you are not from Rome is clear. That you are not _for_ Rome is less clear. Do you work for them? Where are you from? How did you get this cape you are displaying so proudly?”

“America. Please. Where are we? What year is it? What bit o’ history are you folks showin’ here?”

“ _I_ ask the questions! So, you’re from Armorica. A Gaul, then?”

“No. _America_ -” They stare at him blankly. “Further west?” More blank looks.

“First you are from the sky, now you are from beyond the sea.” She sighs and prods disgustedly at the cape. “This belongs to an officer, but you are no officer. You’re not even a soldier, and I find it hard to believe you’re an assassin.”

There are more titters from the spear-wielding henchmen.

“How did you get it?”

“Ah found it.” Not a lie. “A Roman must’ve dropped it.” Although they are still pointing their spears at him, they don’t seem to be scowling as much. They are starting to relax. Waiting for the next laugh, perhaps. “You wouldn’t have seen a Roman. would ya?” he dares.

“A Roman. _‘Have we seen a Roman?’_ he wants to know!” She shakes her head, then hisses sharply. “We’ve seen _thousands_ of Romans. There are more and more every day. You really did fall from the sky, didn’t you. If you want to meet Romans, then wandering through the woods, dressed in red, all by yourself is a _very_ good start.” She throws her hands up in the air. “This place is running over with Romans. And believe me, it’s not what you want. With Romans you have three choices: Run, die, or capitulate.”

Then, to her friends, “He can come with us. He’ll only die out here if we leave him on his own.” Jed kind of resents that observation but he’s mostly glad that he’s not about to die right here and now at their hands. “You don’t have a sword do you?” They start poking about him with the spears to see if he’s armed.

“Didn’t think so.” She tuts and shakes her head again, “Come along now then. There’s something you should see, Mr _‘Have we seen a Roman?’_ Oh, and hide that cape.”

 

***

 

The sea looks endless before Octavius. How could this be only a display? It’s too perfect. The ships, their broad square sails proudly swelled, are visibly nearing the shore. And in the distance, the sea fades away to the sky, not to the dark space of a room in a museum.

It could be real.

What if it was?

Before Octavius tries to tell anyone here that they are in a diorama, a fact they clearly haven’t grasped, he must first find a way to prove it. In truth, he needs to prove it to himself too. It’s as though he’s fallen into the past. He is about to meet a leader who he respects, idolises even, and who has respect for him too, or rather will do. At this moment in time, Julius Caesar hardly knows him.

Later, Octavius knows, because he’s read up on it – you get asked that sort of thing when you’re part of a ‘high-tech interactive exhibit’ – that a man with his name will do great and terrible things for Rome... because of the trust that Julius put in him. But he has no memory of doing these things himself - He's still just a soldier with a promising future.

Jed, on the other hand, has the memories of several people spanning seventy years or more. It’s part of what makes him so reflective sometimes, and part of what makes him so fascinating. Octavius misses him terribly at the moment. It is only now that he doesn’t have Jed by his side that he realises what a fixture he’s become.

In the meantime he has another problem. Who can he say he is, in this world of ‘before’?

For the moment, everyone around here is too excited to notice that he’s an imposter. Where are the commanding officers? Who said that everyone was allowed on the clifftops? Why is there no defence posted around the camp? These troops are either terribly undisciplined, or just abysmally disorganised. Half the soldiers are not even armed. It’s as though they were far from enemy territory and preparing for a picnic, not the coming of Caesar himself and his great army to a land barely won.

So Octavius sets about doing what comes naturally and starts ordering people about. And because there are no other officers, they obey. They tidy up the camp and stand in neat formations for him. He has them practice marching up and down and being ready to greet their leader when he disembarks, all the while trying to think of how he will explain himself.

He’s got his story somewhat straight in his head, at least. He is part of a group come ahead of the main party, to announce and prepare for Caesar's arrival. It’s plausible and he’ll explain himself later once he’s convinced Caeser of their plight. Octavius is glad he is well-read. He remembers reading Caesar's own account of these events. That means he’ll be one step ahead of the people here. That is, he reminds himself, if the museum is halfway accurate about what happened.

Caesar’s landing was surely _not_ something the museum anticipated, but it’s something they must now prepare themselves for. No indeed; given the sloppiness and overexcitement he’s witnessed, the soldiers here were supposed to stay in their typical idealised camp for all the museum visitors to see, waiting eternally for ships that would never arrive.


	3. Falling off the edge of the world

They lead him out of the woods and across a hillside, sticking close to the scrub until they have a view into a valley but are concealed in the lee of the hill from a vantage point above them where Jed’s companions are convinced there’s a lookout.

Without a word the woman touches his shoulder and points.

Below is a cluster of little round thatched houses near a glistening stream. There is a bustle of activity in the centre of the village. To either side lie fields where people are working, harvesting. The scene is perfect. Bucolic.

“Looks good, doesn’t it” she says, her voice low but cold. Jed can’t see where the problem is. There just seem to be plenty of villagers going about their business. Then he sees something he thinks he recognises.

“The Romans let these people have our land and they tax them for the privilege.” It’s only later that all her words register with Jed. At the instant she says them he’s already spotted a familiar figure below in the village. Light glints as it catches on armour and a splash of a red crest and Jed is running and yelling in relief before his doubts have caught up with him.

If the others try to stop him, they move too late. None of them call after him.

Jed starts to yell Octavius' name but then stops himself. As he gets closer he can see that there’s actually a whole _bunch_ of soldiers, and there might not be any Octy after all. But while he can stop himself from yelling, he can’t stop himself from falling. He's tripping through the brush, scratching himself on the gorse and hurtling toward the village. At last, he slither-slides down a muddy bank and comes to a halt.

Then he approaches more cautiously. It’s not till he's real close that he gets a look at the men dressed like Octavius. Back in New York, though he doesn't know each and every face in the Rome diorama, they’ve become familiar to him nonetheless. These faces are not. They are sterner, more menacing and remind him of the early days with Cecil the night guard, who would shut them in to their dioramas. Back then, their meetings with the Romans and Mayans were rare and fierce.

Despite his theatrical arrival, he hasn’t been spotted yet.

There are people to-ing and fro-ing everywhere with baskets, crates and barrows. There is a man seated at a broad table noting things down. Around him are soldiers, who seem to be guarding him and a cart being filled with all manner of luscious vegetables and fruit - Fat turnips and beets, apples and pears. All of it so fresh you can smell it. Back home, most food arrived by the train - the train they could never leave on - and everything there was to eat was canned, cured or several days old.

There are enough people around that he passes unnoticed. Though Jed’s clothes are different enough, he is so dirty from his exploits that the brighter colours of his attire do not stand out. He’s come this far. He might as well try to see what’s going on, listening out for any mention of a new Roman arriving in the neighbourhood, as the smell of the food draws him invisibly - Someone, somewhere, has been baking bread.

He tries to get closer to listen in on what’s going on.

It is not clear if the Romans are here taking an inventory, buying or requisitioning but, in any case, they seem to need to count each and every carrot, swede and turnip going into the cart.

The smell is something he could not have expected. Sweet and delicious. He tries to ignore that he is ravenous. It is all too beautiful. The tablet has surpassed itself.

He moves forward through the crowd. And there is the bread. Little round loaves the size of a man’s hand. He has no intention to steal. He only wants to touch one because they seem so real. He reaches out.

A cry goes up and all faces turn in his direction. Narrowed eyes and hands on sword-hilts. Suddenly he is not blending in anymore, and then he is running again. Except he doesn’t know where to. Back to the river?

His way is blocked by a flock of sheep spilling all over the street, so he darts between two squat little houses, though a vegetable garden and out into an alleyway - just in front of a ready-waiting Roman patrol. He hears raised voices behind him from the direction he fled from.

He’s cut off.

There are nothing but hostile faces and shouts. This is not the time to try explaining or asking after Octavius. On reflex, and futile though he knows it, he aims his one remaining pistol at the sky and pulls the trigger. Against all hope the gun fires for real this time - far louder than he could have imagined or than ever he remembers it. It scatters the soldiers like the birds on a nearby roof and startles the horses attached to the vegetable cart, who take off like the wind, spilling half the cargo behind them. In the instants of distraction this causes, Jed runs. Rounding the corner toward the river, he sees the soldiers trying to follow the cart and tripping on apples and turnips that roll in every direction.

He grabs some sacking from a barrow, throws it over his head and splashes into the stream and under the bridge where they can’t see him.

Shortly after, he hears voices above him, angry words in several languages. He holds his breath but the voices carry on over the bridge. He lets out a sigh of relief, but curses silently and wonders where he should go from here.

 

***

 

Closer up the ‘sea’ is no less convincing. An ever-changing pattern of points of light glisten on its surface as he walks down towards the beach.

He’d ordered the troops to strengthen the ramparts in his absence and gone off to explore, desperate to find any trace of Jedediah and to see if there was any visible end to this diorama, any proof it indeed was one. He’d followed a path worn through to the chalk and leading to the beach.

He hears them before he sees them; swimmers in the water. There are cries and laughing and splashing. It's just around the corner, still hidden from sight by a cliff. He stops. If these are more men from the camp, then his sudden appearance dressed as he is as a commanding officer will surely not go unnoticed. He peeks around the rock and finds he is right. The beach is covered with discarded armour and clothing and the sea is full of people.

By rights they should be terrified of the waters here. Octavius has heard tell of soldiers deserting rather than embarking on the seas around Britannia, connected as they are with those of the underworld. But all he can hear are the cheerful voices of people having fun.

Has no one has told them they should be afraid?

Octavius now knows that the Western ocean is not the edge of the world - After all, he lives in New York, which lies beyond it. So why is he hesitating? If he wants to touch the sea he has to do the same as they; so he shucks his armour, his sandals, his helmet, and runs straight into the waves.

It’s so cold that it knocks the breath right out of him. When the tablet works its magic it creates something realer than real. Though to be honest, if Octavius is comparing this with a memory then it’s not strictly one of his own. Are how would he know what was more real?

There is no evidence that it’s a painted-on sea. It doesn’t seem to end either. What irony. In looking for the way out of the diorama, he’s looking for the edge of the earth; something he knows does not exist.

The only giveaway is the blithe attitude of the men around him to the might of the ocean. Who are they that they would bathe in this way? His eyes stray to the pebbled shore and he distinguishes among the belongings there, the crests of several helmets. So _this_ is where the officers are.

But who is who? He himself has thrown off all that would identify his rank; all that shows who he is. He is just another of the men playing in the waves. He relaxes - getting used to the temperature. He leans back and just floats, staring at the sky to search for the hole they fell from.

There is no sign of it.

He closes his eyes. All he can hear is the lapping of the waves and the joyful cries around him, the cold water numbing his skin. He wishes Jed were here or at least that he knew he was safe. He doesn't usually miss Jed like this, but then they’ve hardly ever been apart for long these last few years.

If he had to he’d save his friend again like he had that one time in Washington, except this time he has no idea where to start looking.

“Soldier! Fetch me my towel.” It takes a second for Octavius to register that the words are being aimed at him. He has never in his career been addressed as simply ‘soldier’. He splashes and splutters and puts his feet down on the pebbly bottom.

The words were spoken casually, but the man sounds like he expects to be obeyed, like that’s what he’s used to. There’s a circle of heads in the water looking at him. The man who spoke is broad-faced and broad shouldered with a hard jaw.

Octavius strides ashore, dripping, with no idea which kit belongs to the man who gave the order.

He grabs the nearest towel. He’ll do this. And then he will show this man just who he’s talking to. That’s the moment he decides to tell the truth about where he comes from.

He’ll have to adapt it slightly. Mention America, yes, but leave out any details about magic for the moment. The only problem is, even without jet-planes, Pharaoh’s tablets and giants, the truth sounds quite the tall tale.

Out of the water, Rufus, the Centurion who ordered him stands a head taller than Octavius. But his men seem more amused with him afraid of him, not a bad ally to have here perhaps.

Then as the group see Octavius don his general’s armour he hears a rising murmur of whispers.

It seems the joke is on the boss here but Octavius refuses to pull rank or let the man lose face. He just smiles his most ingratiating smile and introduces himself.

That provokes more whispers but their faces are welcoming enough. Its strange but its as if they recognise him. Which is impossible.


	4. Where, when, whom?

It’s fallen quiet around him. Jed can no longer hear footsteps on the boards above him. They must have thought he made off into the woods and either sent people to hunt him, or given up and gone to clear up the mess. Some of the vegetables have even rolled into the river.

He tries to alter his appearance before emerging. His chaps he leaves behind. They are too heavy to walk with, especially sodden as they are now. He can’t wear his hat either. It’s too distinctive. But he won’t be parted with it, so he hides it in the sack he kept. Then he smears a bit of mud in his hair to try to darken it and grabs a few of the wayward veggies as he slips back out of the village.

He climbs back up the hill to where he left the tribespeople. They’re not there. They must have had a good view of his escapade from up here though. Below he can see Roman soldiers in formation, picking up turnips; too busy to notice his escape.

From here he can see further than he ever has. There’s no view into the blackness of a darkened museum gallery, no ovals of curious giant faces, no walls painted to look like mountains or canyons in the distance with unmoving clouds hanging over them. Here, he can gaze all the way to where the horizon disappears into the mist. Over where the light is brightest, there’s a line of blue that might be the sea. Elsewhere, the hills merge into the clouds. Whoever painted the backdrop here was a true artist. Or perhaps it’s just a novelty effect. Maybe if Jed lived here for sixty years then he would start to notice the brush strokes.

“Welcome visitor".

He nearly jumps out of his skin. The voice is a woman’s, but rich and deep with a familiar accent that makes him think of Octavius again. He looks about him but there’s no one here. The words seem to come from the sky.

“Welcome to Britannia, fledgling Roman province, as it was in 43 AD. Forces have pacified the south-east and await the arrival of the Emperor. Before you, you see the Vale of Kent. The local Britons, able seafarers and farmers, held off earlier invasion attempts, but today some tribes have forged alliances with the Romans against their enemies, while others made war or abandoned their territories for the West.”

Jed whistles to himself. So that’s where they’re at. This disembodied voice must be some kind of interactive guide that’s come to life like the rest of them. He tries to get her attention.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?”

No response. Obviously he’s not loud enough.

"In the English Channel, Caesar’s flotilla is on its way with reinforcements, cavalry and war elephants."

Elephants! Jed’s seen an elephant in the New York museum already, but never one to scale. It would be daunting nonetheless.

"Hey there, Miss voice lady. Please. Can Ah ask ya somethin’?" It’s difficult to sound polite when you’re yelling, but she seems to know her stuff, and so she just might be able to tell him where Octavius is.

"I can answers visitors’ questions about the display and the world of Britannia."

"Great! Have ya seen Octavius? He’s like the boss soldier Roman. Big fluffy hat, serious expression, short skirt, shiny armour...”

"Roman armour can be segmented or consist of chainmail.” the voice informs him. “Soldiers would often have to supply their own. A Roman legionnaire would have armour in segments; a centurion would more likely have chainmail. Rank can be distinguished by headwear…"

Taking the risk of interrupting before she gets into her stride, Jed shouts again.

"Yeah, well, Octy's a general and he wears like a breastplate. Did ya see ‘im land in th’ diorama?"

“At this date there are more than 40,000 Roman troops in southern Britain, from every corner of the Empire."

There didn't seem to be a way of getting a straight answer from her. Surely finding Octy wouldn’t be that difficult, even amongst other Romans. He had a way of standing out. And besides, wouldn’t he be looking for Jed too?

“Pardon me ma’am but have ya seen Gaius Octavius V around these parts?”

"Gaius Octavius was born in 66 BC ...”

“But ya ain’t seen ‘im?”

“Of course not.”

Why ‘of course’? Jed sighs. Well, at least now he knows where he’s landed himself. He’s sure he’s in an exhibit of some kind. If he’s not made a friend of the local Romans, what does that matter. Octy’s not with them. He could do without the strife though. It’s twice already today he’s thought he was about to get stabbed.

“Couldn't you tell the folks here that they're in an exhibit. It would be so much better if nobody got hurt.”

"Casualties in the Romano-British war...”

"For cryin’ out loud! It’s only fair to tell people they’re in an exhibit. They don’t have to re-live history all night! Can’t ya talk to ‘em?”

"But I am here for visitors."

“At least warn them so’s they look right when they freeze at dawn.”

“Freeze at dawn?”

Understanding that they were exhibits had taken Jed and the others quite a bit of time back at the Museum of Natural History. You could mistake the freezing for a moment’s clouding of the mind, like napping for a second. Easy to dismiss until you realized you were living one never-ending day.

He tries to explain where he comes from but the voice seems focussed on addressing visitors; of which he _is_ one, despite his size. As for the locals, it looks as though he'll have to try to convince them himself.

“Oh, one last thing please, Miss… Sorry, what’s yer name?”

“Sybyl.”

“So, Miss Sybyl, where’s the way out o’ this place?”

“Turn right and after 50 yards at the end of the corridor you will find the lifts to the main entrance hall. The stairs are at the opposite end of the ‘Ancient Britain’ gallery. In an emergency, please follow the green signs to the nearest fire exit. In case of fire, do not attempt to use the lifts.”

“Right. Good on ya. Thanks, Sybyl.” He sighs. “Ah guess Ah’ll jus’ push on through th’ woods…”

 

***

 

“So you built a stronghold on this far flung island.” Rufus prompts him

They’re lapping up every word gazing at him in awe. He hopes his luck lasts.

“Not an island, a continent.” Octavius explains “New York is the gateway to the New World and there we have a city, with temples, monuments a forum, a grand colosseum. Octavius can’t help himself, he has their rapt attention. “Here we have built a new Rome.”

“A Rome away from Rome?” Rufus laughs at his own joke. “But why have we had no news of this before?”

“A sensitive mission. Very ‘hush hush’. Caesar would not have told anyone until success was sure.”

They are suitably impressed, with his story, with his armour and rank but also seemingly with his charm, they won’t stop looking at him as though he were fascinating. He’s gained an invitation to accompany a party to the legate’s villa half a day’s ride from here, where they will receive Caesar’s party.

He continues his account as they travel. Strangely, and happily, no one questions his story. They’re all ears. He daren’t mention Ackmenrah and the real mission yet. The diorama they are riding though is so vast that he has no way to prove to them this is a museum. So for the moment he goes along with what everyone believes. It feels natural, easy. This is his destined role after all.

“So you are both leader and emissary? What spoils from this new land, have you brought? Gold, treasures, Women?”

This is where it starts getting tricky.

“I was separated from my party when we were pursued by a mighty beast in the passage between these lands. I lost all but my closest companion and then we too were separated somewhere in these parts. I must search for him, but I do not know this country”

“Lost, you say.”

“He may be in the forest.”

“In the forest, you say? What does he look like, how is he dressed?”

Where to start? He’d never had to describe Jed. Everybody knew him. Friend or enemy. he’d simply always been there for Octavius, so familiar it’s difficult to imagine what a stranger would see. What was the first thing you noticed about Jed?

“Handsome. Ruggedly handsome. A young fellow with flaxen hair and blue eyes. Tall enough that we could look one another in the eye. He’s fair-skinned, very pale hair and eyes, like the Barabrians of the North. And he wears blue jeans – blank looks – _braccae_ and a hat a black on that really makes his hair look even fairer, You’d also know him because his nose is crooked. That was me infact, when we were enemies.” He hears murmers of approval and the mention of the might of Rome. “Back in his country he herds cattle. Catches them with a rope from the back of his horse. He speaks roughly. Talks too much in fact . Not that I mind.” Right now its Octavius who’s talking too much and he knows it but can’t stop himself. As Octavius describes Jed he feels something loosen inside him. His audience seem enthralled so he goes on. “But he’s kind. He thinks he’s modern, I mean he likes to try new things.” Octavius narrowly avoids mentioning the car or the internet…. They seem to be lapping it up. “I think he’d love exploring this country…”

 

He’s managed a longer description of Jed than he did of Rome. He pauses.

“Well at least if doesn’t look roman and isn’t wearing Roman clothes he’ll stand a chance erring in those woods. There are still rouge bands of Britons there. Enemies of the loyal tribes.”

“Just, keep a word out.” Octavius has the feeling that if Jed hasn’t found trouble by now that he’ll make some. That’s why makes this silence is so worrying “And if you find him, don’t harm him.”

He could probably talk about Jed all day, for all that they are likely to find him. In fact talking about him is easy and he’s probably gone a bit overboard It feels good to conjure Jed in his mind and horrible to stop for now he feels doubly alone.

What happened to their friends? Still running from some fleshless cousin of Rexy who prefers fresh meat to chasing bones?

 

All Octavius knows is that the tablet must have survived because he is still alive. Does that mean that their friends are searching for them?

Once before they thought them lost, back in the snow of central park. Jed had kept him going, on their long trek back; kept talking non-stop in fact. But this is different, he is alone. If only, like at the Smithsonian, he could be sure to find Jed and save him somehow.

 

***

 

Jed stumbles into the Briton’s cap, muddy and tired.

“You fool. You could have been followed.” snaps the woman

Jed is privately thinking that anyone could have found the Briton’s camp blindfold. They’ve got fish cooking on a spit over a smoky fire. There’s a sorry little couple of tents camouflaged by fern fronds, but not so much that they’d be hidden from museum visitors peering in on them.

“Didn’t think we’d be seeing you again.”

“Hard to believe he’s still alive.”

“He’s a strange one.”

They look him up and down.

“He had to be to survive until now.”

Jed pulls out and holds out the bread in one hand and three beetroot in the other.

That shuts them up.

“What did you do?”

“Sheesh, Ah didn’t mean to go thievin’.”

“That’s not what I meant. The bang. We heard it but we couldn’t see.”

“My gun.”

“Gun?”

“Yeah. My gun, it works. Firs’ time it’s worked fer me in 60 odd years.”

“You make no sense. You are not 60 summers old. And what is a gun?”

Jed takes his revolver, carefully removes the cartridges and hands it over. They examine it each in turn.

“Ah don’t understand. Back in New York it ain’t never done nothin’ ever.” When he thinks about it, Jed is intensely grateful for this, given the trouble and injuries he’d have caused. “It must be the tablet.”

“Tablet?”

“Yeah, ol’ Ahk’s magic tablet. The one Ah was tellin’ you about.”

“Are you a druid?” one of the men asks.

Jed doesn’t know what to say to that. Firstly he’s not sure what it means. But if it means he does magic, then from their point of view that’s about right. A man from the future would seem like he could do magic.

He’s saved having to give an answer by the woman, who is weighing the gun, in her hand.

“From how far away can you kill a man with this?”

“Wait, wait, whoa, hold yer horses! Who said anything about killin’? And how d’ya even know how it works?”

“I don’t need to know how it works to know what it does. I think you have a ‘gun’ for more than making bangs. After all, you have no sword.”

She looks around their little circle, then at Jed.

“I am Deieda. These are my husbands; Drust, Jule and Tamm. I think we can help each other.”

This is an unexpected turn of events. Jed looks a bit closer at the three men. Then at the woman. Well, perhaps that just the way they do things around here.

“With all due respect, ma’am, Ah ain’t looking to marry at th’ present time.”

At this Jule and Tamm roar with laughter until Deieda shushes them.

“I meant with this,” and she hands him back the gun.

“And Ah ain’t shootin’ nobody.” She nods silently. Jed has the feeling that she will simply try another tack. “Tell us the truth about the cloak. Whose is it really?”

“It belongs to Octavius.”

“And just who is this 'Octavius'”

“He's a Roman, a neighbour from back home.”

At this, Drust stands up and gives Jed a hard look.

“Romans are ‘neighbours’ to no one. They do not stay peaceably by. They might pretend to be neighbourly but, in the end, they take everything that is yours, and your freedom with it.” He sits down again and gazes solemnly at the fire.

“But who is this Octavius among the Romans?”

“He’s an army general.” There’s a collective gasp.

“So he is an important man and he’s your friend?” Deieda concludes. Jed nods.

“If he is important, do you think he can get the Roman army off our backs?”

Jed sighs. “Ah don't even know where he is. He fell down here when Ah did, but he could be anywhere.” Jed realises that his wavering voice is betraying how truly worried he is.

“Even if we can’t find your Octavius… At least help us fight them.”

“You don’t _need_ to fight them! Look, can we get one thing straight here? Ah was jus’ out there talkin’ with Sybyl, the exhibit guide, and she said you guys are part of a miniature reconstruction o’ Roman Britain.”

“Britain will never be Roman.”

“You pretend to fight ‘em in the day, but at night you can do what you want. Me an’ my boys fought with the Romans for 50 years, had us Rome right next door. But now we’re friends, an’ we protect the tablet together.”

“How did you fight them when your weapons didn’t work?”

“Oh. Well.” And here his tale starts to feel a little lame “Mostly we frightened ‘em with dynamite.”

“What is ‘dynamite’?”

“It’s like the gunpowder… Uh, It explodes, like, inside the gun. ‘S fer exploding rocks when you build the railroad.”

“’Railroad’?”

“Like a road.”

“Like the Romans build.”

“Lands gotta be real flat. That’s what the dynamite’s for.”

“And with dynamite… Can you _un-_ build a road?”

“What?! Well… Ah guess so.” Jed thinks he can see where this is leading.

“I’m not asking you to hurt anyone; simply to slow them down. Do things to make them want to leave.”

“But Ah ain’t got no dynamite.”

“But you do have gunpowder.”


	5. Reunion

 

The people here are all very hospitable. They treat Octavius like he really is somebody. Perhaps their understanding of his home in New York as the latest Roman conquest is somewhat erroneous, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any harm. He’s been given his own rooms in the Legate's villa, opening onto a terrace with colonnades and a reflecting pool. It’s a far cry from camping on the beach he read about in his uncle Julius’ memoirs, but he’s not complaining about historical inaccuracy right now. The house is staffed by slaves who tend to guests every need. And the place is a hive of activity, with immense kitchens furiously preparing for the grand event and pouring out glorious smells. There’s heated baths too, with skilled masseurs: all the comforts of home and more…without the responsibility. He could almost be on holiday… if only his concern for Jed wasn’t still gnawing at him.

So, when word comes of a stranger causing a commotion in a local village Octavius heart soars. He can hardly keep himself from grinning when he hears the description of the incident: a wide-eyed account of a strangely garbed barbarian babbling in a foreign tongue, wielding a device that made a terrible bang and smoke and single-handedly throwing a village into chaos. Obviously some sort of druid… A dangerous and wanted man.

Octavius reassures them that, if treated correctly, Jed is harmless and that he should be alerted on the next sighting and brought straight to Octavius on capture. They look doubtful - or scared perhaps - but he insists and they cannot go against his authority. Jed came with him from America and is under his responsibility.

Most people’s interpretation -- that Jed is part of the spoils of war and thus enslaved to Octavius following the Roman conquest of the Americas -- is perhaps unfortunate, but if it guarantees the man’s safety and protection then so be it. They’ll just have to play along.

 

***

 

It'd been a stupid idea. Well, not a stupid idea in itself, but stupid to actually go through with it – trying to blow up a Roman road with gunpowder extracted from his own ammunition.

At least no one was hurt and the Britons got away.

He’s sore at them though. It had kinda been their fault, his getting caught and all.

Along with wilderness survival skills, cattle driving, horse care and camp cookery, Jed’s got a memories of some gruesome railroad-building accidents, particularly involving explosives. Why give him these? Nothing like that ever happened in a diorama.

He’d yelled a warning for the others to scadaddle. Not because the Romans spotted them pouring the powder between the stone slabs – they were too busy on their break – but because Deieda got too close after he’d lit the taper. Jed yelling at her to jump clear, that’s how the Romans got wise to them. And though they might not know what gunpowder does, they know a wrongdoer when they see one.

Jed is getting disturbingly used to being halted in his tracks by blades too close for comfort, but this time there was no stopping for the fuss. It was gonna blow and they had to get out of there. But the Roman soldiers had no idea of what was coming and wouldn’t budge, thinking it a ruse.

 

“Don't chase the others, it could be a trap.” one of them yelled. “We've got the leader. He’ll be good to make an example of. Best nip these things in the bud.”

Jed ducked to make a run for it and the soldiers dived after him just as the charge exploded. It sent them flying, Jed with them, landing heavily with their shields clattering on top. But at least that kept off the falling rocks.

Once they’d recovered themselves, he was promptly tied up and gagged with his own bandana.

And now he’s waiting to see what they’ll do with him.

The Romans, like Deieda’s people, examine his clothes with curiosity. Then they search him. The gun, once more, is of particular interest. They spin the barrel. Jed tries to stop them but that’s difficult with your mouth covered and hands tied. He doesn’t want some fool peering down the barrel and pulling the trigger, even if that fool's gang are restraining him rather too tightly.

Octavius cloak, which is bedraggled now, is unrolled for all to see.

“’ _Octavius!_ ” he tries to yell against the gag. “ _It belongs to my friend.”_

“Don’t unbind his mouth, he may cast a spell on you.”

_“I’m not a druid”_

Then another rooster-headed dude turns up in a helmet more ridiculous than Octy’s. He looks Jed up and down and hard in the face, taking him by the chin and pulling his hat off. The man rubs at the clotted mud in Jed’s hair. “ _No touching!_ ” Jed tries to spit at him. But he’s little choice in the matter and then, with no explanation whatsoever, he’s led away to a wagon.

He’s stuffed in there in what appears to be a cargo of fine foods – cheese, wine, cured meats, the smell is a torture in itself. But he’s bound and there’s nothing he can do to get at any of it.

They’d pushed him around like he was an animal. Like they could do whatever they wanted. It starts a new cold type of fear in Jed, about how far these people would go. They’re only Romans, right, like at home? He tells himself. But this is not home.

Why oh why did he get involved in someone else’s fight?

He’s got a pretty good idea: Because he used to enjoy baiting the Romans back in the day? Because he was frustrated Octy wasn’t among them? Or because he hoped that if he made enough of a noise then perhaps Larry and the others would somehow find him?

But there was also his instinct to root for the underdog and a deep-down feeling that these Briton folks might be his ancestors or distant cousins.

Finally, the wagon arrives wherever they are going and he gets traipsed out to an encampment where there’s marquees and flags and excited people bustling around. It looks like some kind of party in preparation.

Jed is handed over to another team of guards. Once they untie the gag and free his hands Jed decides things are looking up, but then _they_ to start going through his stuff and asking for explanations.

They admire the rope. He demonstrates it. Even lassoing one of the guards with it. They’d never counted it as a potential weapon and he kicks himself for giving this away. They look at him, shocked, and then there’s a nasty laugh.

“You’d be good in the Circus.” One of them says. Is that where you’re being sent? It’s you the entertainment for the big day?”

“Shut up lads,” says another “This one’s got to be kept in mint condition; personal property of one of the high-ups.” Whatever they mean, none of it sounds good.

Then they find his matches, which impress everyone, but do nothing to discourage the 'druid' idea. Jed being some sort of sorcerer neatly explains all his oddities and seems to gain him some respect. Unfortunately, it also labels him as public enemy number one and they tie him up again.

“Bring him.” It’s been an age and his limbs are stiff from sitting tied in the same position. him.

They release his hands, and thrust his belongings at him.

Jed is led through what looks like some rich folks’ garden. Then his guards fall back a little. There’s a gathering of people there all in togas and long dresses and it takes a moment of staring for him to recognise Octavius in the crowd. Octy’s armour and uniform are gone. He’s wearing what must pass for casual wear among Roman. Jed’s eyes lock on him and cannot stop staring. He’s rarely seen Oct with as much as his helmet off, let alone out of armour. Here you can hardly see the soldier in him. It’s like he belongs as part of this diorama. It’s only the flash of his gaze that pulls him from the background and Jed from his reverie.

The white cloth of Octavius’ toga makes his skin and hair look all the darkerand he has that fresh from the bath look. Jed looks down at himself, in his grimy, tattered clothes and lets out a chuckle. Octy’s face takes on a series of expressions: relief, incredulity, awe… then he goes all serious for a moment and is unreadable. But what a sight for sore eyes.

“Here, toga boy.” Jed grins, holding the cape out. “You dropped this.”

He sees Octavius eyes crinkle as they meet his and his smile is like the sun coming out. Jed forgets everything and throws himself at the man, dragging him into a hug.

 

***

 

In the first seconds Octavius sees Jed, he’s swamped by relief. Jed is alive, unhurt and ended up in this same strange universe as he. Then he’s struck by just how thoroughly filthy and worn his friend looks. He’s covered in dried mud and soot and Octavius can guess that he’s had a good few adventures on his way here. Then Jed’s holding out Octavius soiled cape. And while Octavius is all pristine and very much the image of this garden party, Jed is ever the adventurer and he is as beautiful as he is out of place. The cape hangs there from his hand like an invitation, a reminder of everything they’ve ever shared.

There’s a silence around them, through which he must be grinning like a fool.

And then they’re in each other’s arms. It’s not the first time they’ve hugged like this in relief or jubilation, but it feels like the first time they’ve ever been this close – without his breastplate, there’s only cloth between them. Octavius hangs on longer than he should, the relief taking the tangible form of the man in his arms, feeling his breathing and joyous that he doesn’t pull away in that strange western way he has – as though showing affection somehow lessened you. He doesn’t want to let go.

Then a voice from outside their little bubble interrupts. “Are you sure this is the one you are looking for. He’s guilty of destruction of imperial property, disturbance of the peace, theft and witchcraft.”

Octavius notices he’s surrounded by people looking on in eager interest.

It’s one of the guards mutters at Jed. “I hope for your sake you’re with him.”

“Well of course he’s with me.” says Octavius. He lifts his head the slightest before putting it back on Jed’s shoulder and willing the world to go away.

Rufus actually giggles. “It was only that, from your description, we were expecting some sort of Adonis. ”

Octavius struggles to hide his embarrassment.

“The nose is right though.”

“Nose?” says Jed “Hey, but that’s personal” Jed looks highly embarrassed.

“Our friend explained how he captured you.”

Jed pulls back and looks at him wide-eyed, but Octavius shushes him before he can get a word in.

“During the conquest of America.” adds Rufus.

Jed sputters. “Shh. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” hisses Octavius

Jed goes slack and silent. He’s still in Octavius’ arms but now it’s strange and awkward, the magic of a few moments ago dissolved.

“Jed we’ve got to talk…”

“You bet,” he says. Then under his breath “What the heck, Octavius?”

“Show your master some respect, he’s saving you.”

Jed stiffens and Octavius feels him start to pull away. If he doesn’t do something, Jed will say something, something that’s going to spell trouble for both of them. Then Octavius whispers in Jed’s ear. “Please, please just let me handle this, please.” Jed grits his teeth and Octavius feels like he’s somehow crushed the magic of a few moments ago.

“Just say the word and we’ll deal with him.” says the head guard. ”We would punish him as a free man, except, as he fits the description of your missing slave. That makes him your responsibility.”

Jed – the fool – has convinced the entire diorama that he's dangerous, that he can do magic… But then, back in New York hadn’t Octavius and his forces thought the very same thing when they first saw the ‘iron horse’?

“I’ll deal with him myself, thank you.”

Jed is filthy with dirt, mud and has brambles in his hair. He’s also seething and barely hiding it. Octavius needs to get him out of there before he does some damage.

“Come along now. You need a bath.”

He tries to take Jed’s hand to lead him toward the house but Jed snatches it back, his expression looking not so much stormy, as like a few moments ago, but bleak,…disappointed.

He follows Octavius without another word.


	6. A commotion at dinner

 

 

Everywhere they touched there’s muddy traces on the white fabric of Octavius’ toga. It’s on his cheek and chin too. He’s feeling oddly shaken and giddy from their reunion, and glad for a few moments of solitude. Jed’s gone off with a couple of the household slaves to get cleaned up.

Octavius looks at himself. He’ll have to change. The fact that by rights it should be Jed who, as his slave, is supposed to help him get dressed is rather awkward. They will have to continue to go through the motions in public to make sure Jed stays under his protection.

How ironic. Years ago, not long after the fight where he’d broken Jed’s nose, Octavius had a wish, a fantasy even, of having the wild barbarian as his prisoner. Of taming him.

But that’s all been written over by a sweeter reality. Years of good memories have buried those of the first strange days of their waking. He was someone else back then, still at war with the Wild West. It was before he knew Jed or understood what made him so compelling.

It’s laughable to think of Jed needing taming. Overall he’s almost civilised. And all the bits of him that aren’t, well Octavius wouldn’t change a single one.

Octavius’ fantasies have changed too, since the old days, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t sometimes still feature Jed.

He redresses slowly, this time in dark brown, less showy, more in keeping with his mood. If only he had found Jed sooner, then they would not be in this situation. Jed would be a visitor, they would be equals, the misunderstanding could have been cleared up and they could have gone to baths together.

And indeed they still could. If Jed were really his bodyslave, it would be quite acceptable that he help Octavius with his toilette. He heads that thought off before his imagination can elaborate and instead scrubs fiercely at the traces of dirt on his skin.

“You told them you invaded America!” Octavius jumps and drops the wash cloth. Jed’s right behind him, having entered silently on sandalled feet.

Jed’s tone is accusing. He’s standing just inside the doorway, blonde hair damp and combed back and wearing a simple tunic like the other house slaves. He makes an odd sight dressed like that. His tunic’s the same colour as Octavius toga, but on Jed it transforms him. His hair like a dark gold flame.

Octavius rallies his thoughts and replies calmly.

“It’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what they think.” Jed rounds on him eyes flashing.

“Look, it’s not that bad–”

“Octavius, you saved my ass back there and I’m much obliged but what’s this ‘conquering America’ nonsense and what’s this ‘bodyslave’ thing they’re all tellin’ me?” Jed frowns. “Cos apparently that’s me now. What does a ‘bodyslave’ do? And what did you tell them about _us_?

Octavius ignores the nuance in that last word, though he can guess. With their little performance earlier, some people will surely have speculated that there might be more to Jed and Octavius than just master and slave. He decides to try to brush over it.

“A bodyslave is both bodyguard and manservant, you obey and serve me in all aspects of my day–to-day life,” Jed looks worried. “You will, for example, serve me at the table at dinner.”

Jed’s mouth twitches but he neither smiles nor frowns.

“You just stay by in case I need anything.” he continues. ”And try to look like you belong to me.

Jed’s expression goes positively stormy and Octavius flusters.

“It’s the best protection you can have here short of being a Roman citizen.”

His words don’t have the desired effect and Jed is still agitated. “But Octy, we gotta get outta here. I’m gonna take ya to see ol’ Sybyl, sort this once and for all. She’s gotta to know where Larry got to.”

“Who’s Sybyl?” Has Jed met a seer or perhaps a real druid on his travels.

“She’s…well… a voice. From the sky.” He adds more weakly.

“A what?” This is decidedly strange, even for Jed. Could the tablet have been playing games with his mind.

“Says she’s there for visitors and I’m a visitor evidently.” Jed looks at himself and does a double take, he’d forgotten for a moment that he’d exchanged his familiar jeans and shirt for the simple tunic of a house slave.

“But Jedediah. There’s no need. I already have a solution. Caesar will be here in no time. He’s my very own uncle and I’m sure that when I explain what happened he will find a solution.

“Ya mean he’s the uncle of the guy yer supposed to be.” There’s a moment’s embarrassed silence. “Or is this place goin to yer head.” Yes, Octavius has rather been adapting rather well here and truth be told, rather enjoying it.

“Jedediah. I am sure that everything will be alright. Caesar is a wise man and even if we’re destined to stay here then I’m sure it will turn out fine. The people here are wonderful. In a bit of time I could free you and -”

“Well gee thanks.” Jed says without sounding the least like he means it. “And what to I do till then, wait on you hand and foot and sleep on the floor by the door. We gotta stop this. The people here they gotta know the truth.”

“Jed. Just bear with it for a day or so, we’ll see what Caesar can do.”

Jed’s comment about his given role was oddly accurate. Octavius glaces at the one bed. He should ask for a mattress or cot for Jed, but yes, his slave would normally be expected to sleep across the doorway to protect him. In any case, Octavius doesn’t want to risk Jed staying in the slaves quarters where he could get into who knows what mischief. Well thinks he can guess - Jed might start an insurrection. “Octy what’s got into you. We gotta find Larry. The people here don’t even know it’s not real. They’re still fightin’ each other.”

Octavius could have pointed out that Jed had been helping in that but he senses that it would not ease the tension. The conversation is interrupted by the sounding of a gong for dinner, though the light in the sky - as at home - is as bright as ever with no sign of evening in sight.

 

 

***

 

 

He’s seething. After the indignity of being kitted out in a dress. Jed’s now expected to wait on Octavius at dinner. It’s adding insult to injury. He feels exposed, especially his arms and legs. Not that it’s cold in the villa, they’ve got some sort of underfloor heating so it’s real cosy. He flexes his toes in his sandals and it feels good. But he can also feel eyes on him. His and Octy’s little reunion was quite an entrance, now people are curious about him. It’s making him mad, which is making it hard to keep up the act.

To make matters worse, he doesn’t know what he’s doing with all the platters and little bowls of food, so he tries to copy the other slaves. That’s who they’re supposed to be ain’t it? Like with the rest of the exhibit, everyone’s playing out their roles like it was reality. He wants to yell at them _You don’t have to, It’s not real._ But who would believe him? He’s outnumbered. If he could only get Sybyl to talk to the people here…

The Romans think they’re so very civilized; but they laze sprawled on couches to have dinner and eat with their fingers. Which is alright after you've been hunting and have a cook out. But here it’s supposedly the height of manners.

So Jed serves the wine and takes away empty plates when prompted as the diners lounge decadently. Octavius among them. He looks like he’s enjoying himself, which makes Jed’s blood boil. But he’s got to keep his cool, play the part, trust that they will get out of this. He feels under scrutiny. It’s mostly Octy whose doing it though. His eyes flit constantly to Jed and Jed can’t help but do the same in return.

The people here see him as Octavius property. He’s angry at them, but also at himself for getting into this. Octavius beckons to him several times and speaks very quietly in his ear. It’s unnecessary, particularly when he’s only asking for this or that dish to be brought or telling Jed to take away this or that empty plate. It helps Jed as he knows what to do, but that’s not the only reason Octy’s doing it. It looks like complicity.

Or worse. It looks intimate, as though Octy’s is promising the things he’ll do with Jed later.

Which of course is totally turning the knife. Like he’s having a delicate secret stomped all over and made a mockery of. Because there’s a part of Jed that wants to be devoted to Octavius, but not like this, not for show.

Octy’s features go soft as though he's just whispered an endearment. If Jed’s heart is racing, his face hot, then it’s from anger. Octy is so gonna pay for this. To think… how much Jed had worried over him. And, to be honest, contemplated moments like this. But for real.

Jed has a growing feeling that Octy is exploiting the situation, and there’s nothing he can do, not without breaking his cover.

Or perhaps there is.

Alright then. If Octy wants it to look authentic then he can have it authentic. Let’s make it worthwhile. Octy isn’t the only one who can exploit a situation.

The next time Octy beckons him over he’s ready. He leans in close to listen, then… grabs a handful of Octavius toga and pulls him close. He delights in the jolt of surprise this gets him from Octy. With the other hand he caresses Octavius hair, smoothing it back until he reaches the nape, memorizing the feel. He’s too near to focus and can’t see Octy’s expression. But it doesn’t matter. Octy can’t afford break character either. Then Jed kisses him, only lightly and on the cheek but obviously and demonstratively. There’s a round of murmurs from the room around them. So he does it again.

And though it’s fake, he knows these moments will haunt him. But darn it, Jed’ll take the consequences. The trouble is, the more he tries to provoke Octy the worse he’s making things for himself.

Then Octy puts a hand on his bare arm and clenches it. A half-hearted attempt to stop him? But in an instant his doubts are blown to pieces and the tension triples as he feels what just might be a flicker of a response - Octavius leans in.

And then, just as suddenly, Octy pushes him away entirely. Darn it.

“You will wait in my chamber Jedediah.” he says sternly. and loudly, with only a slight waver and clearly for the onlookers.

Then he adds something in Latin that raises a round of laughs. Jed gets their meaning. Well he’s succeeded in making them believe in a relationship, shame he also convinced himself so darn well. He daren’t meet Octavius eyes.

Its time for a speedy exit.

But the murmurs follow hims, and the remarks.

“A bundle of tricks that one…What a pretty thing.”

Which is several rungs lower in Jed’s book than being called ‘cute’.

Dazed and angry for a whole new set of reasons he storms across the courtyard, under the colonnades and finally to Octavius room;

“Anytime you want to take a break.” A voice behind him says. There’s another man there, dressed in the same way as Jed. Another slave then. Jed had hardly noticed him.

“What?”

“He’s quite something, your master. I could take care of him for while if your need a breather. Looked such a cold fish when he turned up here. Ha ha! It’s always the quiet ones!”

“I’m quite okay. Thanks.” says Jed, hurriedly ending the conversation and escaping into Octavius room.

It’s beginning to sink in, he’s made things a million times worse. And worst of all is that his hotheadedness has possibly just cost him his friendship with Octy.

He contemplates the sole bed and his heart sinks still lower.

On it though, in a neat little pile, are his clothes, fresh and clean. And with them, his gun. The idiots. The poor simple ancient idiots. They’ve given him back his gun. Had they really understood nothing?

And there’s not just his things here, but Octavius’ cape, folded up in among his stuff, everything together, natural like.

His breath hitches. Jed is in so much trouble…unless. Did Octavius lean in to him just now? Probably just good acting. But how dare he?

Jed grabs his jeans. He could dress as himself again now. Get on out of here…

But he knows won’t. He can’t. It won’t solve anything. He throws them down again, then throws himself on the bed.

Oh No. He’ll wait for his 'master'.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to betas Kottakitty and Scattenblum


End file.
